


Postlude: Marked

by Kitsu



Series: Three Times' a Habit [4]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Biting, Choking, Fight Sex, Fights, Hair-pulling, Love/Hate, M/M, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 19:03:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6206866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsu/pseuds/Kitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Affection takes many forms. Somtimes it's called hate.</p><p>Set sometime post part 3 of Three Times' a Habit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Postlude: Marked

**Author's Note:**

> Don't expect ANY plot. This is smut, written for smut's sake; for shits and giggles, basically. And because these two are hellishly hot together, I keep getting these images in my head, and I have to write them down.

That very moment, Vane couldn’t remember what he had said to trigger Flint - but for some reason he’d suddenly found himself decked out on the floor, his jaw smarting, the taste of blood in his mouth. Flint sat straddled across his hips, a look of pure rage on his face. His fingers were curled around Vane’s throat, pinning him to the ground.

Considering his situation, Vane _should_ _want_ to fight. He didn’t. In fact he really, really liked his position. More than he should, for his own health’s sake. Logic told him that he should try to remove Flint and calm him the fuck down. His body instead decided to remember the times they’d been this close before - close, mostly naked and fucking.

Grinning, teeth stained red with blood, Vane chuckled. Flint’s fingers on his throat flexed, tightened. Vane tilted his head back, with obvious intent, making it easier for Flint to get a better grip. His eyelids felt heavy, his eyes narrowing to mere slits. Flint was seething and Vane was pretty sure what he was about to do next wouldn’t calm him in any way. Lifting his arms, he knocked back both of Flint’s elbows at once, causing him to topple over, landing flush against Vane’s chest.Their faces suddenly only inches apart, Vane quickly grabbed Flint by the back of his head, crushing their lips together. Fuck, Flint tasted good. Like a man, like the ocean. Vane could drown in it. 

He’d been right, his actions did nothing to calm Flint. The angry hiss escaping Flint and the constant pressure on his throat told Vane as much. However he didn’t relent, keeping a firm grip on the back of Flint’s head, keeping their lips locked together, stealing all his air, denying him pause to breathe. Flint this close to him felt good, too good. Too  _ fucking _ good. What had they been discussing? He couldn’t remember, didn’t care. All he cared about was turning Flint’s intensity from rage to want. 

He bucked up against Flint, never letting go of his head, their positions leading to some very direct contact. Flint could’ve tried denying it as much as he liked, but he was more than a little hard already, Vane could tell. Moving his free hand to Flint’s arse, he managed to pull him even closer, grinding up against him, the friction between them burning hot. 

Soon he realised Flint had stopped swearing between his teeth. His fingers were still clenched around Vane’s throat, but the grip had taken on a different quality - a slightly less murderous one. Vane still tasted blood, and realised Flint was kissing back, biting - less than gently. Nipping sharply at Vane’s lips, he’d opened up the split in Vane’s lip caused by the first punch. The fight hadn’t left Flint completely, just changed character. Vane decided he was probably safe enough to let Flint breath for a moment, but when he let his head drop back to the floor, Flint’s fist suddenly connected with his jaw again, albeit not as hard as the first time around.

“You fucking arsehole, Vane,” Flint hissed. “You’re a dick.”

“So’re you,  _ Captain _ ,” Vane quipped, a wicked smirk on his face. He punctuated his words by bucking up against Flint again, making sure he was reminded how hard they both were.

Flint hissed again, not entirely in anger. “You’re a menace,” he managed to grind between his teeth. “I told you, you couldn’t tell…”

So  _ that _ was what they’d been fighting over. Someone knew they’d fucked. Someone on the crew, and now the rumour was spreading like a wildfire. “Do you really think I’m that dumb? I never told noone. But Flint, sorry to break it to you, but sometimes you’re fucking obvious.” Just  _ sometimes _ . “ _ I _ notice the way you stare, both at me and well, them. You couldn’t hide it if you tried. The whole damn crew knew your proclivities includes men, long before we ever bunked up. All of them fear you, half of them would still bed you - if you’d ask nicely.” Too late he remember it was a similar comment that had Flint land the first blow - he just couldn’t stop himself. “You should see the way they look at me when I’m anywhere near you. The jealousy, ah, it burns. Some… Some glare worse than others.”  _ The idiot pair, in particular.  _

“You swear you never spoke of it?” 

“Why the hell would I? This...” He tried waving his arms to indicate something, but found it difficult. It turned into a shrug. “This… I’d prefer not to share. Any of it.” There was no love between them, just an understanding. Something to keep the lonesomeness at bay during dark, cold nights. A shared intent to keep the other person focused on their shared path. They’d both loved - in their own way - and lost, leaving barely no room in their hearts for nothing but thoughts of betrayal and revenge. But even broken men found the nights long and desperate and two broken souls together came closer to one whole than they did on their own.

Finally Flint seemed to calm down somewhat, some of the tension draining from his muscles. Vane was more than happy to make sure the remainder let go as well. With a kick off from the floor, he flipped them over, upsetting their positions. With Flint beneath him, Vane took no pause, grabbing Flint’s shirt, pulling it free from his trousers and belts. Slipping his hands underneath it, he stroked broad palms across Flints chest, muscular and defined. He needed more, much more. Deft fingers did short work of belt buckles and other fastenings, freeing Flint’s cock. Curling his fingers around it, feeling the by now familiar weight in his palm, he gave it a few not-so-gentle strokes, but quickly decided he himself was still too clothed.

Springing to his feet, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it away. Stripping quickly, he kicked off his boots and stepped out of his trousers, before settling down again, straddled across Flint’s hips. Leaning in to rake teeth along the visible line of Flint’s neck above his shirt, he wrapped his hand around both their cocks, revelling in the slight friction of skin on skin.

Flint jerked up against him, his hands coming to rest on Vane’s hips, fingers digging into skin and muscle, blunt nails still managing to leave marks, almost drawing blood. Flint always fucked as intensely as he fought, Vane noted. Grabbing for his trousers, he withdrew a small vial of oil from a pocket.

When he seemed to pause for a moment, Flint grabbed him by the hair, pulling him down. “Fuck me,” he ground between his teeth, warm breath wafting across Vane’s cheek.

Vane was happy to oblige, but found that Flint was somewhat too clothed. Placing the vial by Flint’s head he crept downward, until he could pull off Flint’s boots and pull down his trousers. 

Flint shifted out of them quickly, staring down as Vane crawled back up again - naked and on all fours.  _ Fuck…  _ He looked like some untamed feline, all sinewy muscle and grace, eyes half-closed, heavy, obscured, hair falling over his shoulders to frame his face.

Settling between Flint’s legs, Vane wen for the vial again, pouring some of the cold liquid into his palm and warming it slightly. He placed the slicked fingers at Flint’s entrance, pushing in slowly. Flint arched up, pushed back, took what he wanted. Even under Vane, Flint was more in control than not. Vane prepared Flint as much as he would let him, before withdrawing his fingers and slicking himself up. Flint pulled his knees up to his chest, giving Vane easy access. As Vane pushed in, Flint groaned between clenched teeth, but wrapped his legs around Vane when he’d pushed all the way in - egging him on with slight movements, drawing him in. 

“Fuck me,” Flint demanded again, turning it into a low, droning chant, repeating it over and over under his breath. 

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Vane replied a wicked smirk on his face. “As you demand.” Moving slow, but with focuses intent, he ground home again and again, angling every thrust just right. 

Flint’s face was a masque of driven purpose, jaw and teeth clenched shut, rasping breath drawn between his teeth. Reaching up, he curled his fingers around Vane’s throat and squeezed. The other hand tangled in Vane’s hair, twisting and tugging, and he yanked Vane down closer. “Harder, you arse,” he hissed. 

Arching his neck, Vane exposed more of it to Flint’s grip, the chokehold just restrictive enough to darken the edges of his vision, to make him breathe harder, deeper, more focused. He sped up his thrusts, driving home at every instance, quicker, sharper. Shifting his weight over on one arm, he awkwardly managed to grasp Flint’s cock between them, timing short, sharp strokes to his thrusts. With Flints hand pulling at his hair and squeezing at his throat, he didn’t have much leeway in terms of movement, but it felt so hot, so fucking hot, intense and insane, rough, violent, so overwhelming that he couldn’t care less. Darkness seeped further into the edges of his vision, and his  consciousness turned in on itself, focusing on every fucking touch, every stab of pain, every liquid tendril of lust coiling down along his spine, until all he could focus on was the tide building in the pit of his stomach.

Flint was close to squirming, every motion from Vane so fucking perfect, so fucking right. The look on Vane’s face was one of total immersion, so far gone, his eyes almost glassed over. Flint found himself staring, listening to every harsh moan, the sight and sounds drowning him. He knew he was hurting Vane, knew he would leave marks and bruises - but neither cared, it seemed. Fingermarks on Vane’s throat wouldn’t stop the crew talking behind their backs, but fuck if he cared right then. He wanted to do it,  _ wanted _ Vane to be marked. As something -  _ as his. _ Squeezing just a little bit harder, he watched Vane’s eyes roll back and his jaw drop open, pain and bliss mixed in heady imagery.

Vane would have sounded his pleasure if his voice had worked, but no sound passed his lips. Instead his mind filled with a cottony nothingness and bright bursts as something finally gave. His arms gave away under him, and he collapsed on top of Flint. His face fit the nook of Flint’s neck just right, and he found a patch of skin above Flint’s shirt collar to bite down on hard as release rushed through him, pushing him over the edge, racking his entire body as he filled Flint up.

Flint felt the tension in Vane give, felt him come inside, and the hand on his cock twitched just right. The teeth biting into his neck was all it took. He arched up, his head thrown back, a long, drawn out moan escaping between his gritted teeth as he came hard, staining both the fabric of his own shirt and Vane’s skin. 

Exhausted, they lay in a pile of listless limbs for a few, short moments. When Flint hissed and pushed hard at Vane’s shoulders, Vane rolled over onto his back, breathing deeply, harshly. 

Flint lifted a hand to his neck, palming the teeth marks that were aleady beginning to swell and, he guessed, turn an ugly reddish-purple. “I hate you,” he groaned.  _ That  _ his crew would notice, and there was  _ no _ fucking way they’d stop their idiot gossip after that.

“I know, I know.” It was as likely as not the truth, and Vane could deal with that better than any other sentiment. Hatred felt familiar -  having become close to a modus vivendi for him those days. “I hate you too.”  _ But hell, he loved fucking him. _


End file.
